I want to feed the squirrels again,
but the concrete keeps rising,
burying their paths.
I want to hear the chatter of babbler birds,
but the machineries are humming louder, drowning its voice.
I want the sparrows to visit my porch again,
but steel beams are stretching higher, leaving them no perch.
I want the weaver birds to build nests in my home,
but the walls are growing cold, too smooth to build shelter.
I want the city to stop creeping.
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Scribblings Of Sleepless Nights
RandomA collection of my reminiscences as when I find the right words to express them. Some parts are rhyming and some are not. Some are poetic and some are prose. Some are just few words and others are long sentences. Give a read to them and enjoy, even...
